User blog:YouTubeKorea/Nightshade: The Recruit
We are Nightshade. We walk at day and hunt at night. We are Nightshade. We drink the blood of our prey. We are Nightshade. We avenge our lost ones. We are Nightshade. We do not forget. We do not forgive. The President of the United States was waiting for someone. And he was not happy about it. Soon, the door to the President’s Office opened, and a man stepped in. He was a tall man with jet-black hair, and he wore a gray pinstriped suit. His big, tired eyes gave the impression of someone who had just completed an impossibly hard task and still has more work to do. The man walked to the President’s table. “Hello, Mr. President. I believe you were expecting me.” The President gulped. There was no turning back now. The choice was made. Clearing his throat, he indicated the man to sit. Nodding curtly, the man sat in a nearby chair. Unlike any other person who ever sat in that chair, this man didn’t look around. He stared directly at the President. “So, Mr. Levin , you are here. Again.” the President said. Mr. Levin nodded. “I’m sorry to cause you any inconvenience, Mr. President, but the matter was rather urgent.” The President almost scoffed. It was no surprise that he despised this man in front of him. The eyes showed everything, and Mr. Levin was an expert when it came to eyes. “So what is it?” the President asked, “Have your loons finally caused too much trouble for you to bear?” Laughing, Levin shook his head. “Nothing of the sort,” he said as he reached into his pocket, “my operatives are very much under the police’s radar.” “So you say. However, my agents tell me --” “Mr. President, this matter is urgent. I cannot stay here long.” And with that, Levin took out a brown envelope from his pocket and put it on the table for the President to see. The President looked bemused. His beady eyes widened, then they narrowed as he spoke. “Mr. Levin, do remember for your own sake that officially, you are a criminal, and I can have you arrested and put to jail! I may even consider bringing back capital punishment, which is something you should no doubt remember the next time you interrupt while I’m speaking!” Mr. Levin looked at the red-faced man in front of him. His expressionless face made the President even more angry. But before he had another chance to shout, Levin said abruptly. “Mr. President. Open the envelope. Now.” What happened next was truly astonishing. The President sat down, and opened the envelope. Inside it was a few pieces of paper, held together with a paperclip. The President perused the first page with astonishing pace, and the more he read the paper, the paler he got. When he’d finished reading the first page and looked back at Levin, the President was white as a sheet. “You mean... you mean this is real, Levin?” Grimly, Levin nodded. “I’m afraid so, Mr. President. Operation Kursaal is currently undergoing final checks, and when that’s done, the Travesty will have no problem in killing millions of people. Your people, Mr. President.” “But what shall I do? Damn it, man, what shall I do?” the President said weakly, as he buried his face into his hands. Levin was silent for a moment, then he spoke. “That, Mr. President, is why I’ve come here. I will help you get through this ordeal. After all, isn’t that what political advisors are for?” Laura Verine sat at a desk at the Interrogation Room, reading the report while sipping on a coffee. Sitting across the table was a young girl. She was about eighteen, with messy black hair and light-brown skin tone, and she looked annoyed. Very annoyed. “So,” Laura said as she put down the report on her table and turned to look directly at the girl for the first time, “this is your name?” “Yes.” The girl sounded even more annoyed. “Well, for you, I won’t say it out loud. But God, it’s so funny --” “Just shut up, will you? Tell me where I am and why I’m here.” Laura put down her cup of coffee. Now here was a sassy little bitch, she thought as she eyed the girl with pure interest. Perhaps there was more to this girl than met the eye. “You used to be a prisoner at Lakemont Penitentiary, right?” Laura asked. The girl nodded. “That is,” she continued, “until my friends got you out of there.” The girl’s face lit up. “That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you! You killed, like, forty people in there! I appreciate that you freed me and all, but did you have to do that?” “Thirty-nine of them were our targets,” Laura said, “and I admit, TK made a mistake killing a prison guard. And you’re a fine one to talk about morality issues, aren’t ya?” She grabbed hold of the report and showed it to the girl, pointing her finger at one specific line. “Killed four people. With one knife.” Laura said, with a slight tinge of malice. The girl pursed her lips. Laura soon realized that she had given her the wrong message. “No, no, I’m not saying it’s wrong. That’s brilliant! One knife, and you managed to slit the throats of four!” The girl’s green eyes met Laura’s for the first time. Then she smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit talented, that’s all.” “And that’s your answer.” Laura said as she smiled, “we picked you up because we’re recruiting, and we detected you in our radar. Nightshade needs cold-blooded killers like you.” The girl’s eyes widened. “Nightshade?” she asked, almost sputtering, “This is Nightshade? It was you?” Laura frowned. “How do you know Nightshade? We’re supposed to uphold secrecy as the utmost importance.” “Well, the NIGHTSHADE　written in blood next to all your victims? That kinda gave it away.” “Oh.” Laura reminded herself(for God knows how many times!) not to do that anymore. Levin had given her a talk about that, but it was such a hard habit to break. “But if you’re asking me if I want to be a part of Nightshade, then you can count me in.” The girl smiled confidently for the first time. Laura thought that looked rather nice. “I’ve got nothing else, no family, no house, no nothing.” “Perfect.” Laura said as she stood up. She picked up the report paper, crumpled it and threw it into the nearest trash can. “Oh, one last thing before you officially become a member,” Laura said as she opened the door to leave, “you have to choose your codename.” “My codename? What is this, James Bond?” The girl said. Laura laughed at that. “I know it sounds lame, but to preserve complete confidentiality, we all have nicknames. For your information, Laura isn’t a codename. It’s Sierra. But since I’m special and don’t care about confidentiality, you have to have a codename. What’s it to be, then?” The girl frowned as she pondered for a moment. Then she looked up. “Ximena . That’s what my gang friends used to call me.” “Nice to meet you, Ximena. Welcome to Nightshade.” Category:Blog posts